Archive:Veraad
BACKGROUND "O Mac'Aree, Mac'Aree!" Veraad had hailed from a traditional Eredun family, most of whom had practised and were renowned for their remarkable craftsmanship of jewels that had made Argus grand and just. Veraad, and his brother, Dulaal were raised together in the enchanted city of Mac'Aree, known to be one of the most sacred city upon Argus, a city where the very roadways where shimmered with emitting minerals and built upon a network of illuminating rivers. From this fabled city ruled a triumvirate of exceptional magi, Kil’jaeden, Archimonde and finally, Velen, all had been responsible for conjuring Argus into such a tranquil and wondrous planet, many millennia ago. '' Time had come when Sargeras came to the Eredar's beautiful Argus, and he had claimed many-a-thing, and all of those things had meant 'power', and both Kil'jaeden and Archimonde did not hesitate to accept this great deities offer, but that hesitation was made up for in Velen's diplomatic view. Veraad and his brother, Dulaal were steadfast in his loyalty to Velen, his father though chose to follow Archimonde and Kil’jaeden – and so naturally, his mother and sister had done so, by his fathers wishes. Veraad aside his brother, parted with them on bad terms, his family broken over the right course of their people. He fled to gather with the other followers of Velen and wait salvation at the hands of the Naaru, K'ure... Over the eons Verad mourned the loss of his family, especially his extravagant sister, Saesuur. He kept with him a crystal that contained a still, fading, holographic image of her that hummed an ancient lullaby of the Eredar. "Home Is Where Your... Dimensional Ship Crashes?" "Oshu'gun" was what the natives had called the Naaru's Transportation Vessel that had escorted the rebellion of Eredar, termed as 'Draenei' which had meant, 'Exiled Ones' was the name that we had inherited, to the colourful exotic planet... Upon Draenor, Veraad, Dulaal and the other gathered to build settlements and gather supplies, with the humble help of the Orcish allies and their trade goods. A notable city they sought to build was Telmor, and this was to be Veraad's future home. Summers and winters had came and passed, as many generations of the Orcs had done as well. Life was calm, peaceful and simple. Veraad, of the Telmor City Guard had been noble to his people, and as even more time passed very little had changed. ''Different groups began to form to reflecting the Draenei society; crafting, worship, hunting and so forth. One such organizations termed themselves as the Hand of K'ure, these of the Draenei kind spread around Draenor offering the words of Light to their outlandish neighbours, but alas, hostility was often found in some races "ME SMASH PUNY PREACHER!".Veraad, his brother, Vindicator Dulaal and Anchorite Naesom, a mighty triumvirate had lead this particular pact Once the tranquillity was shattered and broken by the corruption of the orcs, fault of the Burning Legion, and having lost Dulaal, at the siege of Shattrath, the Hand were at their absolute peak. With the war raging, members of the pact defended caravans of innocents heading to the shelter of Telredor, however war takes it toll, Hand members were killed in action. Massacre was what Kil'jaeden fed on, and the Draenei felt that the Legion was winded. All remained silent, the orcs went through the portal opened by Medivh and the draenei started slowly re-emerging, taking back former lands until the Sin'dorei appeared. The events that followed lead the Shield onto the Exodar along with many of their kin. The crash upon Azeroth caused the unfortunate demise of many. With so few of them surviving the crash the sect was dissolved. Until a more recent date, the Hand of K'ure re-emerged at Veraad's voice, wanting to fulfil another quest, to re-establish back upon Draenor, the world they originally found peace in. A new agenda was on mind, the Draenei now wished to, instead running, fight the thing that once drove them around the universe in fear, and after the corruption of his brother and the death of the Anchorite, Naesom. Veraad seeks to gather the Hand of K'ure as a new order, a new generation... 'ADVENTURES AND TALES' Broken: The Siege of Shattrath "We arrived here not too long ago, I recall... I recall the impact we took as we crashed upon Draenor, our lifetime seems extortionately longer lived than the natives here, and we have observed them, monitored their development through bountiful summers and bitter winters. The Orcs were once a beautiful race, they were. They sold us Talbuk-woven blankets, thick Clefthoof pelts, and other raw materials, in exchange for our crafted tools, weapons and other decorative pieces. We had allied each other, some even revered. But now, the orcs and our people no longer share the bond they once did, and they have been possessed with demonic and fel energy, corruption of the easily convinced Kil'jaedan and Archimonde... My brother, Dulaal was a mighty Champion of the Naaru, but this was physically altered..." '' The Vindicator stood at his full height, his rugged and brawny frame bracing for the events to come, his mind wandering lost from one thought to another. His muscular figure was clad in dull jade armor, in his concealed arms he held a enormous crystalline mace. Rain had shunned the lands of Draenor for months upon months - but now, as if in revolt, the clouds wept. Light showers drizzled across the city and the surrounding forests. The two armies stood and waited as the steady downpour increased. ''Hundreds. Maybe Thousands. Many of the Draenei’s once dignified cities now lay in shattered ruins. Telmor, Karabor, Farahlon. Shattrath was all that was remaining. The Orcs slowly proceeded to their positions around. Dulaal stood steadily, his eyes narrowed. He knew that the gathering here were meant to be sacrificed. He had volunteered to be here - to fight the last battle - he knew this battle would satisfy the Orcs, and consider the draenei extinct. Those who sought refuge elsewhere were granted another day. He was confident, Dulaal stood sturdy, embracing his hands around the shaft of his magnificent crystal jewelled hammer. He took a long drawn out breath; he spread out his distinguished legs, the toes of his illustrious hooves grasping the solid stone masonry. But no, they would not leave silently. He peered aside to his stationed brethren of the Holy Light - Vindicators - they would fight to the very last shedding of blood. Like him, they stood impassive and resolute, having reached their own peace with the destiny that now awaited them. War machines assembled outside, Drumbeats sounded. Thunder rolled. The clouds swirled, lashed, and erupted, as a luminous wave of massive flaming projectiles that hurtled to the earth with meteoric speed and bone-jarring strength. Battle cries deafened. The stones were continuously plunged by the foul catapults at the walls. They would surely crumble. Crude Ogres were sent to demolish the walls, the impact of the battering rams only addition to the ear-splitting bellows and shrieking thunder. In a heartbeat, the walls crumbled completely into crystallized rubble, a flood of blood-thirsty Orcs and Ogres poured in. Dulaal thrusted his hammer upwards, like many others, it shimmered radiantly and in an instant, a blinding flash of light overcame the scene. Stunning the frontline Orcs, while harbingers had time to claw at the ogres. The Orcs were under the influence of bloodlust. Their eyes were illuminated in scarlet fury, mesmerizing. Dulaal halted from healing and began purging, much like all of the other Vindicators around him. The Orcs continued to frenzy, the Vindicator gritted his teeth, trying to overcome the fury of the Orc -- 'NAA-KROOOM!' -- All of a sudden the city shook, causing Dulaal to lose balance, he swiftly steadied himself. He had been weary as he had been fighting too long, there was a sea of corpses surrounding him both friend and foe, it was obvious that orcs would overrun them shortly as there is not enough vindicators to keep the frontline Orcs cleansed of the bloodlust any longer. And in a heartbeat, a distinct foul red fel mist matured over the Lower City, the defenders began to gag and discharge, in the most disgusting manner. And likewise, Dulaal dropped his shining weapon, collapsing to the ground, gasping for air, and vomiting thick blood and as his eyes hushed. There was nothing he could do. Dulaal quietly mutters a humble prayer before sauntering into unconsciousness. "He awoke a few days later, I had heard, on the outskirts of Zangarmarsh and Terokkar. Was this his punishment, what had he done wrong, I did not understand, but whatever had done, had affected many. All that he had was shattered, he was misshapen. Corruption had too intoxicated this once virtuous Eredar. His body now a poor reflection of what it once was just like the home he stood to defend. His vulgar body had adsorbed some of the corruption of the final moments, changing it, he like many of his brethren are shattered now. They have become known as "'the broken'"." Category:Archived Characters